There's nothing quite like a good walk to clear your head. My favorite stroll takes me from Brooklyn to Manhattan across one of the finest examples of 19th century engineering in the New World: The Brooklyn Bridge. I love the bridge. I love the Hassidic couple who huff and puff their way past me every morning: their 19th century coats rendering them oddly period-appropriate. I love that on some days our mother tongue is seldom heard. Italians, French, Spanish and Germans gawk daily at the view their newly empowered Euro affords them. I love that in the twenty minutes or so it takes me to get up and down the mile-long span, my mind dreamily floats in a meditative state.
Meditative states don't go over too well in television. Meditative states are not, to quote Hot Lips Houlihan, "consistent with maximum efficiency." So this is why I'm grateful for a space suspended hundreds of feet above the East River where the pressure of deadlines for pitches, scripts and edits magically lifts...for a moment.
May you all have Brooklyn Bridges wherever you are.
David
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